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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852645">Cup of Tea</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercoverwarlock/pseuds/undercoverwarlock'>undercoverwarlock</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Complete, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter Has PTSD, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Ten Years Later</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:07:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,976</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercoverwarlock/pseuds/undercoverwarlock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Harry Potter knew Draco Malfoy had changed in the ten years since the war. He was only beginning to find out just how much. A multi-chapter fic of tea dates, comfort and finding each other after years of being alone. Complete work as of 17 August 2020.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy &amp; Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>321</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The New Potions Master</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Characters belong to JK Rowling, but let's be honest, she doesn't deserve them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry stood when McGonagall came into his office, closing the door gently behind her. He gestured for her to take the seat opposite his desk.</p><p>“Tea, Headmistress?” he asked in way of greeting. “I was just about to put the kettle on.”</p><p>“Please. Thank you, Potter.” She sat with a sigh. Harry busied himself with setting the kettle on the wood-burning stove in his office and pulling out the tea things, already reaching for McGonagall’s favourite cup. It was Friday afternoon, the week before term started. It was routine for them at this point after five years – she would come to his office, he would ask if she wanted tea and she would always say yes, and they would talk about the upcoming year, mainly in terms of the Gryffindor Quidditch team’s chances for the Cup. As much as she thrived as Headmistress, Harry suspected she missed being head of Gryffindor house and being able to cheer for her house team. Being impartial was not her cup of tea.</p><p>Harry sat down as they waited for the water to boil. McGonagall pursed her lips as she folded her hands in her lap. Harry narrowed his eyes. That was her bad news look, he would know it anywhere and it never ended well.</p><p>“What is it?” he asked. She hesitated, then looked up.</p><p>“You are aware of the staff vacancy,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Harry frowned and nodded. Slughorn had finally retired this past year, leaving the Potions Master position open again for the first time in ten years. If Harry was honest, he’d been dreading this conversation, the threat of another Snape always lingering in the back of his head. McGonagall adjusted her glasses and pretended to nonchalantly pick off a piece of non-existent lint off of her immaculate robes. “I’ve asked Mr. Malfoy to fill the position.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>The kettle began to whistle. Harry jumped up and took it off the stove, busying his hands with pouring the water into the teapot while his mind raced. He set it and the mugs on his desk, moving aside books and papers as he did so. He could feel McGonagall’s gaze heavy on him, watching his expression – he had never really learned to hide his expression, his mind an open book across his face.</p><p>“You disapprove,” she stated. Harry opened and closed his mouth. Finally, picking his words carefully, he said,</p><p>“I trust your judgement, Headmistress. And I’ve heard he has…changed, a lot, since the War.”</p><p>“But?”</p><p>Harry sighed heavily as he sat back down with his milky tea. McGonagall watched him as she sipped at her own – black, no milk, no sugar. “I haven’t talked to him since his trial,” Harry admitted at last. “And that was seven…no, ten years ago? It’s been a long time.”</p><p>McGonagall hummed and set her cup down in its saucer. “But you have no reservations beyond that in regards to his character?” she prompted, studying him over her glasses. Harry rubbed his face, pushing his own glasses up into his curls to scrub at his eyes. He wanted to say yes, that Malfoy was still the arrogant brat he had known during their school years, but… he was almost thirty, and it had been years. He wasn’t completely unaware of what Malfoy had been up to since he had been released from Azkaban – he had been sentenced to a year, but got off after six months for good behaviour, and because Harry had testified on his behalf at both his initial trial and his appeal. He had apparently gotten his NEWTs through a private tutor – it had been too much of a risk for him to come back to Hogwarts – and then on to a certification to be a Potions Master. He collaborated with St. Mungo’s Healers to devise new potions for the medical field, and was known throughout the wizarding community not for his family, but for his accomplishments. Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of the bastard. Not that he would ever tell him that.</p><p>“No,” he said at last with another heavy sigh. “I don’t.”</p><p>“Good.” McGonagall took another sip of her tea. “Because he’s moving in tomorrow.”</p><p>Harry choked on his tea. As he spluttered and coughed, he couldn’t help but notice the smirk that flashed across McGonagall’s face.</p><p>“Term is starting next week, what did you expect?” she asked innocently. Harry glared at her.</p><p>“Of course, I just… Does this mean he’s the new head of Slytherin house?” he asked. She nodded stiffly. Harry shook his head. “Well, I can’t wait for the Gryffindor team to beat Slytherin to the House Cup this year, then. It’ll be just like old times, right, Minerva?” He raised a cheeky eyebrow, and McGonagall rolled her eyes with a smile.</p><p>They drank the rest of their tea without another word about Malfoy, too wrapped up as they were in discussing the Gryffindor team’s line-up for the upcoming year. But Harry kept thinking of a certain grey-eyed man, and the words they’d exchanged all those years ago…</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Harry leaned back against the wall opposite the court room door, watching the Wizengamot filter out into the corridor. He exchanged a few polite nods with some of them, a few muttered, “Mr. Potter,” “Sir.” He rolled the wand in his hands around and around, waiting. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Finally, Malfoy came out of the court room. Narcissa Malfoy had her arm wrapped around her son, as if someone was going to come and take him away again. Lucius had gotten a life sentence. The look in her eyes told Harry that she refused to lose Draco too. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Malfoy froze when he saw Harry. For a moment, they stood, staring at each other. Draco’s cheeks were gaunt, his already pale skin almost translucent as it stretched tight against his bones, his grey eyes dulled and haunted. His usually well-tailored robes hung off of his thin frame. Harry bit his lip. He had tried to get the Ministry to get rid of the Dementors altogether, but even as the saviour of the wizarding world, he was still just an Auror trainee, and his words did little to change things. Sure, they had started phasing the Dementors out and replacing them with human guards, but it would take years before the Dementors were gone altogether. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Potter,” Malfoy said, his broken voice barely above a hoarse whisper. He exchanged a look with his mother, and after a moment, she nodded and left the two of them alone in the corridor together. Malfoy tried to draw himself up a little straighter, but the effort it took to do so seemed to drain him even further. Harry looked away, down at the wand in his hands. He held it out to Malfoy, handle first.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“This is yours,” he said gently. Malfoy, surprised, took it from him, his bony fingers wrapping around the handle. A light returned to his grey eyes as he held the wand, his wand, the one Harry had wrestled from him almost a year ago. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thank you,” Malfoy whispered. His eyes met Harry’s, and Harry had to stifle a gasp as Malfoy’s gaze pierced straight through him. “For everything,” he added, not taking his eyes off of Harry’s. Harry swallowed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Of course,” he said. “I – ”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But whatever Harry was going to say was cut off by Malfoy’s mother calling for him. Malfoy gave him a curt nod, and then he was walking away, out of Harry’s life once more.</em>
</p><p><em>At least, that’s what he thought</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Praxis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Praxis: practice, as distinguished from theory; the process by which a theory is realised. (Wikipedia, Oxford Languages).<br/>Also, quick note: I mention that same-sex marriage isn't legal in wizarding Britain by this point, but it's supposed to be set in 2018, so it was technically legal in the UK by that point.<br/>EDIT: I can't do maths. Ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts would be 2008, not 2018. So same-sex marriage would not have been legal in the UK, wizarding or otherwise.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Malfoy arrived the next morning during breakfast. He came into the teacher’s lounge where they ate outside of term time looking, to Harry’s surprise, hesitant, as if he was going to be told off for being there. McGonagall stood as she greeted him and gestured for him to take a seat. Harry saw Neville shift uncomfortably in his seat next to him. Malfoy gave McGonagall a tight-lipped but grateful smile and sat down, pulling in his chair before looking around at the other teachers. He gave Neville a small nod, who returned it with a hesitant smile. Then his eyes landed on Harry. It felt like hours before Malfoy turned to greet Charms professor Klingle, and Harry was able to breathe again.</p><p>Malfoy looked good. He seemed to be starting to grow his hair out, as it had that shaggy length that comes from growing out a cropped cut. He had filled out a bit over the years, all long lean muscle instead of the skin and bones that Harry remembered post-Azkaban. His black robes over his tailored black suit brought out his fair skin and hair. The years had apparently treated him well.</p><p>Malfoy began to help himself to toast and jam as conversation resumed around him. Harry caught McGonagall’s eye. She nodded pointedly at Malfoy with a raised eyebrow. Harry huffed but leaned forward to get Malfoy’s attention.</p><p>“So, Malfoy,” he said, trying to think of something to talk about. Malfoy looked up from spreading apricot jam across his toast in faint surprise. “Er, how was the trip up?”</p><p>“I Floo’ed in, Potter,” he said slowly. “It was not exactly a trip.”</p><p>“Er, right.” He shot a desperate look over at Neville, who just shrugged and turned back to his conversation with Professor Sinistra. Malfoy’s lips quirked up into a faint sneering smile, but there was no malice behind it. Blushing, Harry tried again. “What have you been up to, then? Recently, that is.”</p><p>Malfoy took a bite of his toast. The space between them grew tense as Harry waited for him to chew and swallow. Harry tried to school his expression into one of patience, as if Malfoy was a student thinking of an answer, but could feel it slipping. Malfoy seemed to be taking his time, even pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking a sip before answering.</p><p>“Oh, you know,” he said smoothly, “a little bit of this, a bit of that.” He took another sip of his coffee. Harry stifled the urge to roll his eyes. “Just got back from France,” he continued as an afterthought. “Mother sends her regards.”</p><p>“She knows I’m here?” Harry asked. Malfoy raised his eyebrows, his attention focused on his breakfast.</p><p>“Of course. I told her,” he replied, his voice cool. Harry’s brow furrowed.</p><p>“<em>You </em>knew I was here?”</p><p>Draco looked up at him as if Harry had asked if he was joining the circus. “The world knows you are here, Potter,” he said slowly. “It was in the Prophet years ago.”</p><p>Of course. Harry knew that. McGonagall finally took pity on him and got Malfoy’s attention, asking if there was anything he required before term started. Harry frowned at his eggs. Why was it so hard to talk to Malfoy? Neville looked over at him pityingly.</p><p>“Give it time,” he said in an undertone, nudging Harry in the ribs. “I’m sure we’ll all get used to having him around soon enough.”</p><p>“I sounded like a complete idiot,” Harry muttered back. Neville shrugged.</p><p>“I mean, yeah, you did. But when was the last time you talked to the bloke?”</p><p>Why did people keep asking him that? “Nine and a half years,” he mumbled.</p><p>“Exactly. Give it time. Let him get settled in. Remember how nervous I was when I started?” Neville said. “I almost forgot what I was supposed to be teaching on the first day, and it was first year Herbology! Basic stuff. You’ll see, he’ll probably relax a bit once he’s settled in, and then you can talk to him properly.”</p><p>Harry shrugged. He snuck a glance at Malfoy, who was still politely chatting with McGonagall. The minute Harry’s eyes landed on him, however, Malfoy turned and gave him a small smirk. Harry blushed and looked away. Neville raised his eyebrows at him.</p><p>“I’ve changed my mind,” said Neville. “You’re screwed.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry went back to his office after breakfast, hoping to get some work done on a new lesson plan for the fifth-year class. He had only just sat down at his desk and opened his notebook when there was a knock on his door.</p><p>“Come in,” he called. When he looked up from his notes, there was Malfoy, leaning against the doorframe. Harry was surprised to find that the self-satisfied smirk was gone. He couldn’t quite figure out Malfoy’s expression – if he didn’t know better, he would’ve said it was longing. But no, that couldn’t be it.</p><p>“Hello, Malfoy,” he said carefully. “Can – can I help you with something?”</p><p>The minute he spoke, the look on Malfoy’s face was gone, replaced with a neutral mask.</p><p>“Oh, no,” Malfoy replied, his voice cool and even. “I was just wondering if we could… talk.”</p><p>“Talk?”</p><p>“Yes, Potter, it’s when two people have a conversation together.”</p><p>“I know that,” Harry said in exasperation. Nonetheless, he waved at the chair and got up to put the kettle on. He heard Malfoy cross the room and take a seat as he filled the kettle and set it on the stove. He turned around, leaning back against the cupboard where he kept his tea supplies, his arms crossed as he appraised Malfoy. Malfoy in turn looked him up and down, his gaze lingering here and there. When he finally met Harry’s gaze, Malfoy’s cheeks flushed a light pink. Harry’s brow furrowed. He ignored the somersault his stomach gave. “So, what did you want to talk about?”</p><p>Malfoy crossed his legs, bracing his ankle against his opposite knee, and leaned back in his chair. “Merlin, I don’t know,” he said with a lopsided smile. “I didn’t really think that far ahead.”</p><p>Harry, startled by Malfoy’s blatant honesty, let out a chuckle. “So you just fancied a cup of tea with your old school rival?” he asked.</p><p>“Well, to be fair, I never asked for the tea,” Malfoy pointed out. Harry blushed. “Not that I would ever say no to tea. And I wouldn’t say we are rivals anymore, are we? Rivals would talk to each other more than once every ten years.”</p><p>“Nine and a half,” Harry corrected. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Harry could feel his cheeks burning, and he turned around, bending down to open the cupboard and hide his face as he picked out the tea and cups. He decided to give Malfoy the cup covered in flowers. When he stood up and turned to face him again, Harry was surprised to find Malfoy quickly looking away and pretending to be very interested in a framed picture of Ron and Hermione on his desk. Harry shook his head and set the tea things on his desk. “So, not rivals,” Harry said, breaking the awkward silence. “Tell me, then. What have you been up to? And be honest, don’t give me that ‘this and that’ again,” he added quickly when Malfoy opened his mouth. “If you want to chat, you need to do better than that.”</p><p>Malfoy laughed softly. “Fair enough,” he said. “Well, as I said before, I just got back from France. Visiting family, all that. They would rather know why I’m not married yet rather than my recent work on cancer treatment potions.”</p><p>Harry, unsure of how to respond to so much new information, frowned. “Why aren’t you married? Are you even seeing anyone?”</p><p>Malfoy chuckled. “Not that it’s any of your business,” he said, “but the Ministry hasn't quite gotten around to making it legal for ... people like me to get married.”</p><p>Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as his brain faltered to a halt. “Wait…why…”</p><p>Malfoy raised his eyebrows. His eyes were cool but Harry could see him twisting a family signet ring around his right index finger nervously. “I see your intelligence hasn’t improved since we were in school,” he said with a hint of his old drawl. “I’m gay, Potter.”</p><p>The kettle, always strangely prescient with its timing, began to whistle. Harry turned and began pouring the hot water into the tea pot, if only to hide his scarlet face once more. He swore over and over in his mind. Of course, of course Malfoy was gay. When Harry had been keeping tabs on Malfoy over the years, he had noticed the papers referring to Malfoy as a “confirmed bachelor,” a very outdated term but the wizarding world was always slow to catch up on these sorts of things. Harry took a deep breath, and turned back to Malfoy, teapot in hand. Malfoy looked, for lack of a better word, nervous.</p><p>“Milk and sugar?” Harry asked, setting the teapot down. Malfoy’s shoulders relaxed.</p><p>“Sugar.”</p><p>“Heathen.” But Harry smiled. He set out the sugar and sat back down. “By the way,” he said, not looking at Malfoy, “I’m queer too. Bisexual. Figured it out after Ginny and I split.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Harry fidgeted with his cup. It was bright orange and emblazoned with the Chudley Cannons logo – a gift from Ron when Harry had taken the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.</p><p>“I didn’t know.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Harry said, somewhat stupidly. “It’s not exactly… something I advertise. But, since we’re, er, sharing… figured I’d tell you. You are now the fourth person who knows.”</p><p>“Fourth?”</p><p>“Well, I told Ron and Hermione of course. And Neville, although that was a bit of an accident. We’d had a little too much to drink one night and it just came out. And now you.” Harry began pouring tea into their cups to give himself something to do. He could feel Malfoy looking at him, but it was not until Harry had finished pouring the tea that Malfoy said anything.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft and quiet. “For telling me.”</p><p>Harry shrugged. He chanced a glance up at Malfoy and was surprised at the gentle smile he saw there. He smiled tentatively back. “So, er, are you seeing anyone?”</p><p>“No,” Malfoy said. He spooned some sugar into his tea. “I have to admit, these days I’m more gay in theory than in practice.”</p><p>Harry cocked his head. “Is that code for you’ve been single for a long time or something?”</p><p>Malfoy chuckled. “Yes, Potter,” he said with a tired smile, taking a sip of his tea. “Not much for witty repartee are you?”</p><p>“Fuck off, Malfoy.”</p><p>Malfoy choked on his tea. Harry laughed as Malfoy tried to mop up his mess while trying to keep a straight face. Malfoy shook his head, chuckling to himself. “What about you, Potter?” he asked after he managed to straighten himself up and Harry had gotten out his giggles. “Can’t imagine dating as a professor is particularly easy, given the small dating pool, even if you are the Chosen One.”</p><p>Harry ran a hand through his hair, turning the mess of curls into a veritable rat’s nest. He needed to get it cut, but it was always such a hassle. Finally, he said, “I actually haven’t really dated anyone since I took this post. I saw a few people after Ginny, but then I was an Auror and life was… hectic, to say the least. So, I guess, how did you put it, I’m more queer in theory than in practice.”</p><p>Malfoy smirked. Something flashed across his face, too quickly for Harry to decipher, but enough to make his stomach tense, like forgetting to jump the trick step and having your foot sink into empty space. Malfoy raised his tea cup in a toast.</p><p>“Here’s to theory, then,” he said. Harry grinned and raised his cup.</p><p>“To theory.”</p><p>After that, they spoke briefly about what Malfoy could expect from the start of term, his duties as Head of Slytherin, and whether Malfoy would like to have tea again tomorrow after breakfast.</p><p>“Yes,” said Malfoy, his smile hopeful and soft. “I’d like that.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Family Matters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After that, they spoke briefly about what Malfoy could expect from the start of term, his duties as Head of Slytherin, and whether Malfoy would like to have tea again tomorrow after breakfast.</p><p>“Yes,” said Malfoy, his smile hopeful and soft. “I’d like that.”</p><p>As it would turn out, it became an almost daily habit. After morning classes, or after breakfast on weekends, Malfoy would come by for a cup of tea in Harry’s office. They would share stories from their classes – “Circe, the first years wouldn’t know a lit cauldron from a bowl of frogs,” “They’re first years, Malfoy, and what does that even mean?” – or from before – “I swear I was never that bad,” Harry argued. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Sure, you weren’t Finnegan blowing up half the things you owned, but Potter, how many times did you almost die?”</p><p>“Oh, at least once a year.”</p><p>Malfoy always took the cup with flowers, even when Harry offered him a different cup, insisting that it was ‘his cup now’. There were only a few times when they missed their tea together – once, Harry’s class ran over and he’d had to send a quick paper aeroplane message to Malfoy, which he then had to teach his now very late class. Then there was the time Malfoy had a cold and was out the entire week, forcing a very reluctant Slughorn back out of retirement to teach his classes.</p><p>Then, near the end of term, Harry had been about to put the kettle on when an origami crane flew into his office and landed on his desk. When he unfolded it, there was a note written in incredibly neat cursive: ‘Mother Floo’d me just after class, talk to you tonight.’</p><p>Harry frowned at the note. They had never met up at any other time, always assuming that if they missed tea that day, they would simply see each other the next day. He told Neville about it over lunch when Malfoy didn’t show up. Neville shrugged.</p><p>“Something must have come up,” he said. There was soil in his hair. When Harry pointed it out, Neville laughed. “Oh yeah,” he said. “The third years learned that some plants do not like getting re-potted. Occupational hazard.”</p><p>Harry smiled at this, but his frown quickly returned. He poked at his shepherd’s pie. What was so urgent that it kept Malfoy away? It was a Friday, so he knew Malfoy didn’t have afternoon classes – not that he had memorized Malfoy’s teaching schedule or anything. Maybe he would swing by after his last class before dinner and check on him. That would count as tonight, right?</p><p>Neville was watching him closely.</p><p>“What?’ Harry asked.</p><p>“Are you really that worried about Malfoy?” Neville asked. “You had the same look on your face when we broke into the Ministry in fifth year. Like you’re worried someone’s going to get hurt.”</p><p>“I’m fine, Neville,” Harry said, a little too loudly. A couple of the teachers and even some students looked over at him. He sighed and lowered his voice as he added, “All he said in his note was that his mother had called. I don’t know, I guess I’m just worried something’s happened.”</p><p>“Why?” asked Neville bluntly. “You two aren’t that close, are you?”</p><p>Harry pushed his barely eaten food away, his stomach churning. “I don’t even know what we are, to be honest,” he muttered. “I have to get to class. See you at dinner.”</p><p>Neville watched him go. He shook his head as Harry left the Great Hall.</p><p>“That boy is in over his head,” he told his plate of vegetables. “And they say I’m dense.”</p><p>After class, Harry went down to the dungeons. He hadn’t been there since…well, since sixth year. He avoided them at all costs, and never had a reason to go down before. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to run into Snape at any minute, especially as he stood outside of what used to be Snape’s office. Now, though, there was a simply engraved plaque that read ‘D. Malfoy’ on the old wooden door. Harry squared his shoulders and knocked, but no one answered. He tried again – nothing. Finally, after waiting around as long as he felt he could, he pulled out a piece of spare parchment and a self-inking quill and wrote: ‘hope everything’s okay. See you tonight,’ not really knowing what he meant by that. He slipped the note under the door and hurried back up to his own office. The minute he left the dungeons, he could almost feel Snape’s ghost dissipate behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy wasn’t at dinner. Nor was he there the rest of the night. He wasn’t at breakfast the next morning, or lunch, or dinner. It rained the whole day, bitter and cold. Harry spent most of the day in his office trying to grade papers, but spending most of it watching the rain rattle against the windows, wondering if Malfoy was alright.</p><p>Then, around midnight, he awoke with a start to urgent knocking at his door. He got up, not bothering with his bathrobe, and put his glasses on before rushing to open the door. There, outside his rooms, was Malfoy, soaking wet and looking for all the world like a lost puppy.</p><p>“Malfoy?” Harry whispered in disbelief.</p><p>“I know it’s late,” said Malfoy, pushing his wet hair out of his face, “but can I come in?”</p><p>“Of course.” Harry stepped aside to let him in. “There’s a fire in my room, you can dry off there.”</p><p>He led Malfoy through his office to the bedroom above, where there indeed was a low fire going in the grate. Harry added a couple of logs before hurrying to the small ensuite toilet for a towel. When he returned, Malfoy stood with his back to the fire, looking around him in undisguised shock. Harry tried not to think, ‘Draco Malfoy’s in my bedroom,’ and instead handed Malfoy the towel.</p><p>“I cast a Warming Charm on it,” he added as Malfoy took the towel from him with a quiet, “thank you.” “Do you want anything to drink? I could make some tea, or would you like something stronger?”</p><p>Malfoy, still clutching the towel and dripping rainwater on the hearthrug, met Harry’s gaze. A trickle of ice slipped down Harry’s spine. The last time he’d seen that look on Malfoy’s face, he had just been released from Azkaban.</p><p>“I’d kill for something stronger,” Malfoy said softly. Harry nodded and began to busy himself with pouring them each a glass of Firewhiskey. When he turned back, Malfoy had dried off and was staring absently at the fire. Harry exchanged the towel for the glass of whiskey, tossing the towel towards the laundry bin. He gestured for Malfoy to sit in the armchair in front of the fire. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried Malfoy was going to fall over if he stood there much longer. Harry, meanwhile, leaned with his back against the mantle, warming his legs by the fire. They sipped at their whiskey in silence. Then, Malfoy spoke.</p><p>“I’m sorry for missing tea yesterday. Mother Floo’d and – Father has been really sick recently – had, had been – you see, he….” Malfoy trailed off. Harry saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, hard. Malfoy closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Father passed away. Yesterday morning. Pneumonia. They could have treated it if he were anywhere but Azkaban.”</p><p>Harry inhaled sharply. “Oh shit. Malfoy – Draco, I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Malfoy looked up at him, startled. There were tears in his quicksilver eyes.</p><p>“I don’t know if I’ve ever heard you use my first name before,” he said. Harry blushed, and muttered into his glass, “that you know of.” Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, and Harry realised that he must have heard him. Harry set his glass down on the mantle and strode forward to kneel in front of Malfoy. Tentatively, he took Malfoy’s glass from him and set it on the side table before taking Malfoy’s hands in his.</p><p>“Seriously, Draco,” he said. Malfoy shivered, and Harry thought he could see a pink flush in his cheeks as he continued, “I am so sorry. I can imagine what you’re going through right now, and I’m here if you need me.” He stroked the back of Malfoy’s hands with his thumbs. Malfoy’s skin was so soft under Harry’s calloused fingertips, but also so cold. Draco blinked at Harry, processing his words. Harry’s gaze dropped unconsciously to Draco’s lips, which were chapped and dry. As he stared, Malfoy licked his lips, quickly as if he wasn’t fully aware of it himself, and Harry felt his heart begin to race.</p><p>“Do you mean that?” Draco asked, leaning forward slightly so that their faces were inches apart. He smelled like petrichor, wet clothes and Firewhiskey. Harry breathed him in, filling his lungs with <em>DracoDracoDraco</em>. He nodded once.</p><p>“Yeah,” he whispered. “Anything you need.”</p><p>“Harry?”</p><p>“Mmhmm?”</p><p>“I want to forget that my father just died.”</p><p>Harry let out the breath he had been holding. “Okay.”</p><p>Draco inched forward, his gaze flickering between Harry’s eyes and his slightly parted lips. Harry wondered distantly if he could feel how sweaty his hands were around Draco’s.</p><p>“Harry?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Can I kiss you?”</p><p>Harry didn’t answer, just closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Draco’s. Draco gasped, but quickly returned the kiss. Small, chaste kisses turned into slow, gentle explorations as Harry climbed into Draco’s lap. He pushed his fingers through Draco’s fine silvery blonde hair, pulling just enough to make Draco gasp against his mouth. Draco’s hands clutched at Harry’s hips, his fingertips digging into the soft fabric of Harry’s pyjama bottoms. Gasps became moans, became whispered words of, “Gods, yes, like that,” of each other’s names like prayers in the other’s mouth.</p><p>Harry stood, pulling Draco with him towards the bed, helping him out of his still wet clothes along the way until he was only wearing his pants. They tumbled onto the bed, tangled together, all kisses and searching hands. Draco sucked a love bite into the curve of Harry’s neck, and Harry threw his head back to give him better access, all the while grinding up against the other man, desperate for friction. Several more love bites later, Harry pulled Draco back up for a deep kiss, if only so that he could flip them over and pin the other man beneath him. He pulled away. Draco looked wrecked, his pupils blown wide, his hair a mess, his cheeks flushed and his lips bruised. They both tried to catch their breaths as they stared at each other, waiting for the other to move.</p><p>“We should stop,” Harry whispered, despite the heat pooling in his belly. “I don’t want you to think of our first time as the night after your father died.”</p><p>Draco sighed. He rolled his eyes, but Harry could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “Way to kill the mood, Potter,” he muttered. He sighed again and nodded. “You’re right, though.”</p><p>Harry grinned. “What did you say?” he asked teasingly.</p><p>“I’m not saying it again,” Draco said with a smirk. Harry rolled off of him, still smiling. Draco sat up as if to leave, and Harry shot out a hand to grab his wrist, to keep him there. Draco looked at him, confused.</p><p>“Stay,” Harry murmured. “Please.”</p><p>Draco searched his face, his grey eyes tentative and uncertain. Finally, he nodded, and laid back down next to Harry. Harry pulled him into his arms and Draco curled up against him like a cat, nestling his head against Harry’s chest. They stayed like that for several deep, settling breaths. Then, when Harry thought Draco had fallen asleep, he heard Draco whisper, “I can’t believe he’s gone.”</p><p>Harry stroked his hair, pressed a quick kiss to the top of Draco’s head. “I know,” he whispered back.</p><p>“He died alone. In a cell.”</p><p>Harry sighed and pulled Draco closer as he felt the other man begin to tremble. He knew better than anyone that no words could help right now. Instead, he simply held Draco as he fell apart in his arms. It was a long time before Draco finally drifted off to sleep, tears soaking through Harry’s pyjama shirt as Harry ran his hand through silver blonde hair. He pressed one last kiss to the top of the other man’s head, before he too slipped off to sleep.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. One Step at a Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry woke up before Draco the next morning. He disentangled himself from the sheets and Draco’s arms as quietly as he could. He put on his glasses, grabbed his wand from the bedside table, and tiptoed out of the room, casting one last glance at the sleeping man in his bed. He smiled to himself. Then he closed the door behind him.</p><p>In his office, he filled the kettle with water and lit the stove fire. Going through the tea-making process helped him wake up properly, reminded him of the less unpleasant parts of his childhood, of quiet mornings at 4 Privet Drive before the Dursleys woke up. Once he had everything set up, the kettle on the stove, he sat down in his desk chair with a soft groan.</p><p>He had kissed Draco Malfoy. He had spent the night with Draco Malfoy. And Draco Malfoy had wept in his arms because his father had just died. Harry combed his hands through his hair, trying to pull out the knots and tangles. Outside his window, the sun was beginning to rise into a blue sky with scattered clouds. The storm, it seemed, had finally passed. The kettle whistled and Harry pulled it off the stove in case the noise –</p><p>The door to his bedroom opened and there was Draco, wearing Harry’s bathrobe. His pale blonde hair was rumpled from sleep and there were pillow marks on his cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe, blinking blearily at Harry, who smiled up at him.</p><p>“Good morning,” said Harry. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Like I’ve been pummelled by Bludgers,” Draco mumbled. He made his way to his usual chair, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Harry made Draco his tea as well as his own, still smiling to himself. Something about seeing sleepy Draco in Harry’s bathrobe made his heart want to burst. He passed Draco his tea in his floral-print cup, which Draco took gratefully. Harry watched as he nursed his tea, holding the cup with both hands and taking tiny sips. Harry set his own cup back in its saucer and leaned back in his chair.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked carefully. Draco frowned.</p><p>“Not particularly,” he grumbled. He still held his cup with both hands close to his lips. He sighed. “But knowing you, you’ll want to talk about it.”</p><p>“I just – walk me through what happened for you.”</p><p>Draco set down his cup on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, his frown deepening. “Ah yes, Auror Potter,” he sighed. “Here we go.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I just – ”</p><p>“No, no, I understand.” Draco waved him off, looking up finally and meeting Harry’s gaze. His grey eyes were startingly clear. “I’ll start from the beginning, shall I?</p><p>“All Mother would say over the Floo was that something had happened and that I needed to come back to the Manor as soon as possible. I only had one more class, so I sent you that note and let McGonagall know I was going home for the day. Family business. I thought I’d be back by dinner.” He pursed his lips. He looked out Harry’s window towards the Quidditch pitch, where one of the teams was practicing. “But when I got to the Manor,” he continued in a quiet voice, “Father was dead. Mother and I had to go to Azkaban and – and bring him home. We couldn’t bury him there. We just couldn’t.” Draco’s voice broke and he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth as if to hide it. Harry waited, painstakingly patient, knowing exactly the pain Draco was trying to swallow back. After a moment, Draco continued.</p><p>“We buried him in the family plot at Malfoy Manor last night. Just the two of us. Mother had managed to get everything arranged, but in the end, it was just us.” Draco paused to take a deep, shuddering breath. “I didn’t know what to do, Mother was going to France to stay with family and I – all I could think was that I wanted to be with you.” He buried his face in his hands as he stifled a sob. He swore, bitter and distraught, his shoulders shaking beneath the weight of it. “I never got to say goodbye,” he sobbed, his words muffled by his hands. “I haven’t seen him… in ten fucking years… and now he’s gone….”</p><p>Harry was on his feet, pulling Draco into his arms before he could think twice about it. Draco collapsed against him, still in his chair, his face buried against Harry’s stomach as he wept. Harry held him, rubbing his back and murmuring softly, “It’s okay, I got you, I’m here.”</p><p>They stayed like that for a long while, the sound of Harry’s soothing murmurs mingling with Draco’s sobs. By the time Draco managed to catch his breath and slow his tears, the sun had begun to climb in the sky. Harry pulled away for a moment to grab his chair and pull it around to face Draco’s. He sat down and quickly took Draco’s hands in his, hoping if nothing else to convey everything he wanted to say through the circles he rubbed into the back of Draco’s hands with his thumbs. Draco closed his eyes at the touch and took several deep breaths.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have come. It was late, and I’ve been such a mess, I’m sorry.”</p><p>Harry tightened his grip on Draco’s hands as he rushed to say, “No, no, don’t be sorry. I don’t mind.”</p><p>Draco looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying. “I kissed you.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple barely audible affirmation. Harry gave him a small smile.</p><p>“To be fair, I think I kissed you first,” he pointed out. Draco’s returning smile was watery, shaky at best.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have, I – ”</p><p>“Hey,” Harry interrupted him, scooting forward so that he sat on the edge of his chair, his knees brushing Draco’s bare ones where the bathrobe had fallen open. “Hey. Don’t be sorry about anything that happened last night. I – I wanted it to happen. Not like that, obviously, not after your father – but I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages and just never knew until last night that that was what I wanted, does that make sense?”</p><p>Draco frowned slightly. “Not entirely,” he said, “but I think I understand.” He looked down at their joined hands and his frown lightened into a precious smile. “You know, I think I’ve fancied you for a really long time. Years, even.”</p><p>“Same,” Harry said, grinning. “I did kind of stalk you in sixth year.”</p><p>Draco looked at him in mock scandalised surprise. “Really?” he said with an exaggerated gasp. “Who would have thought?”</p><p>Harry chuckled. But then his expression grew serious again, and Draco’s brow furrowed. “So,” said Harry slowly. “Where do we go from here?”</p><p>Draco sighed. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice vulnerable and soft. “I never thought that far ahead, if I’m honest.”</p><p>Harry nodded. He knew the feeling. “How about we take this one step at a time? Let’s get you freshened up, and as much I hate to say it, out of my bathrobe.” Draco chuckled at this, and Harry’s heart skipped. “We can go down to breakfast if you want, or I can have one of the house elves bring something up. I have some work to do, but if you want, we can just… talk. Or sleep. Or none of the above. Whatever you want.”</p><p>Draco nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, I’d like that.”</p><p>“Which part?” Harry asked.</p><p>“All of it.”</p><p>They grinned at each other. Then Harry leaned forward and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to Draco’s lips, who smiled against Harry’s mouth and tried to hold him there. But then he pulled away and rested his forehead against Harry’s, their noses brushing. “First,” he said, “maybe we should brush our teeth, because I don’t know about you but your breath stinks.”</p><p>They laughed. Harry pulled back, but not before giving Draco a quick kiss on the forehead. “Okay then,” he murmured. “One step at a time.”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Many Meetings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Most of the teachers left with the students over the winter holiday. Harry, who loved Hogwarts at Christmas time, planned on staying and spending Christmas evening at the Burrow with the Weasleys. Draco, on the other hand…</p><p>“You can’t be serious,” he said with his old drawl. Harry, who was helping the other teachers decorate the Great Hall with tinsel and evergreen branches, frowned at Draco where he sat perched on top of one of the dining tables.</p><p>“Come on, Draco,” Harry said. He stepped back to admire his work before turning a determined look on Draco. “It’s one night. And you said you were spending the morning with your mother, so your evening will be free, right?”</p><p>Draco bit his lip and straightened his shirt sleeves. “You need to move the candle a bit to the left,” he said instead of answering, gesturing at the off-centre candle on the mantle with his wand so that it scooted itself into the proper spot. Harry rolled his eyes and came over to sit next to Draco on the table. A couple of students were playing wizard chess at the other end of the table – one, with his bright red hair matching his Gryffindor sweater, reminded him of Ron, while the other, an Indian girl with her wild black hair tamed into a ponytail, looked more like Hermione, with the determined set to her jaw. She wasn’t very good – most of her pieces had been decapitated by the boy’s two knights and nasty looking bishop. They noticed Harry watching and both gave him a quick wave and a, “Happy Christmas, Professor!” before turning back to their game. Harry waved back and smiled. Draco, meanwhile, was still fidgeting with his wand, unintentionally making it snow. Harry sighed and brushed off the mini snow piles from his and Draco’s shoulders.</p><p>“You can say no, you know,” he told Draco. “I won’t be offended if you don’t want to come.”</p><p>Draco, realising what he was doing, shoved his wand into his robes and leaned his head into his hands, staring at the fire in the grate. Harry resisted the urge to wrap his arms around him – they weren’t quite out to the rest of the staff yet, let alone the students, and had decided that it would be best for them to figure out their relationship first before they advertised it to the rest of Hogwarts. Although, Harry did notice Draco’s toothbrush next to his this morning, which was promising.</p><p>“They don’t like me,” Draco stated matter-of-factly. “I would just ruin the holiday spirit by being there.”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes and nudged Draco with his shoulder. “You don’t know that,” he said. “And you have obviously never met Mrs. Weasley. She’ll only be mad that she didn’t have time to knit you a sweater.”</p><p>Draco snorted. “Maybe,” he said, “but I distinctly remember Mr. Weasley getting into a fist fight with my father in Flourish and Blotts when we were twelve.”</p><p>“To be fair, that was your father he got into a fight with, not you,” Harry pointed out. Then, choosing his words carefully, he added, “And you’re not your father, Draco. Give the Weasleys a chance to get to know you, and I’m sure they’ll like you well enough.”</p><p>Draco scowled. Apparently ‘well enough’ wasn’t reassuring.</p><p>“Have you told them about…me?” he asked, gesturing vaguely. “That I’m here, that we’ve been… that we’re…whatever this is?”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t answer straight away. Draco picked up on his hesitation immediately.</p><p>“You haven’t, have you?”</p><p>“Draco – ”</p><p>“You ashamed of me, Potter?”</p><p>“I never said – ”</p><p>“So why haven’t you told them?”</p><p>“Draco, keep your voice down – ”</p><p>“Tell me why.”</p><p>Harry flushed, avoiding the onlooking stares from the nearby students and teachers. He could see that the red-headed boy’s ears had gone pink, even if his gaze was still fixed resolutely on the board. Draco was fuming. He had turned to face Harry, his grey eyes narrowed and his fists clenched in his lap. Harry leaned forward and buried his face with his hands, pushing his glasses up and out of the way. He swore under his breath. He could feel Draco’s glare burning a hole into his head. He sighed and lowered his hands.</p><p>“I haven’t told them,” he said slowly, his voice low so only Draco could hear, “for the same reason we haven’t told the other teachers about…us. Because I don’t know what to tell them.”</p><p>“You still could have at least told them I was here,” Draco hissed. Harry let out another deep sigh.</p><p>“I know,” he said wearily. “But listen, Draco, I barely talk to them as it is. I write to Hermione only because she writes me first, and since Rose was born she’s been writing a lot less. I don’t think I’ve even wrote to them since term started.” He looked up at Draco, whose scowl had softened into a look of confusion. “The truth is, I’m a terrible friend. I don’t write, I don’t call, I don’t visit often, if at all. I get busy with work and I forget. You’ve seen me, I get…”</p><p>“Tired,” Draco finished. Harry nodded. There had been a few times over the term that Draco had come to tea only to find Harry passed out in his desk chair, and while the nightmares were less frequent when he slept with him, Draco knew that they still tormented him. They had spent too many nights already having to calm each other down from their respective night terrors. The peace the world had now came at a cost, one that still made itself known over ten years later. The wounds would never really heal.</p><p>“I’m sorry I haven’t told them about you,” Harry said, reaching out and giving Draco’s hand a squeeze. “If you want, we can Floo Ron and Hermione together this evening. And if that goes well, would you at least consider coming to the Burrow on Christmas?”</p><p>Draco pursed his lips. He looked down at Harry’s hand still holding his and covered it with his free hand. When he looked back up, he gave Harry a small smile.</p><p>“Okay. I’ll think about it.”</p><p>Harry grinned.</p><p> </p><p>Ron and Hermione were delighted to see Harry that evening. Draco stood to the side of the fireplace, out of sight, as Harry kneeled in front of the flames and greeted his old friends. Hermione had Rose on her lap as she and Ron sat cross-legged in front of their fire. Rose kept trying to reach out and touch “Uncle Hawwy” but Hermione held her back.</p><p>“How have you been, mate?” Ron asked. Rose had grabbed one of his fingers with her chubby hand, but he didn’t seem to notice. “We haven’t heard from you in ages.”</p><p>Harry shot a meaningful look over at Draco, who rolled his eyes back at him. He turned back to his friends.</p><p>“I’ve been doing alright. Term was good, the first years are settling in well this round,” he said. “Listen, I – ”</p><p>“Did you get the books I sent you back in August?” Hermione asked, interrupting him. “The ones on curriculum reformation and Post-War Theory?”</p><p>“Yes, I did, thank you, they were very interesting – ”</p><p>“What did you think of Benedicto’s argument for getting rid of O.W.L. examinations?”</p><p>“Er…”</p><p>“And what did you think of Arnold’s counterargument? I found her points particularly fascinating – ”</p><p>“Merlin, Hermione, let the man speak!” Ron interjected at last with a laugh. He wiggled his finger free from Rose’s clutches so he could rest his hand on Hermione’s shoulder, a silent reminder for her to breathe. He turned back to Harry with a grin. “We haven’t seen a lot of other adults recently. Well, other adults who aren’t parents as well. We just started Rose at the new wizarding preschool, so you can imagine.”</p><p>Harry forced an understanding smile. “Yeah, of course. Listen, I have something I need to tell you two.”</p><p>Something about Harry’s expression made them both grow suddenly serious.</p><p>“What’s wrong, Harry?” Hermione asked, concern etched into her brow. Rose tried to wiggle out of her arms but she tightened her hold without looking away from Harry. “Is it your scar? Has something happened?”</p><p>“No,” Harry said quickly, waving off their concern. Ron narrowed his eyes but said nothing. “No, it’s nothing bad – it’s good, actually.” Hermione relaxed with a sigh of, “That’s a relief,” but Ron still watched Harry like a hawk. Harry swallowed. “You see, um, we got a new Potions Master.”</p><p>“Oh.” Hermione and Ron shared a confused look. “Is that it?” Hermione asked.</p><p>“Er, no, because, you see….” Harry took a deep breath, gathering his courage. He could feel Draco’s eyes on the back of his neck. “The new Potions Master… it’sDracoMalfoy,” he said in a rush. Ron and Hermione frowned.</p><p>“What was that?” Ron asked. Harry squirmed.</p><p>“Draco Malfoy is the new Potions Master,” he said, more slowly this time. Ron’s jaw dropped. Hermione, on the other hand, simply nodded.</p><p>“That makes sense,” she said. “I’ve been reading about his work at St. Mungo’s, he has some really interesting ideas on the use of folk magic in medicine.”</p><p>“Draco <em>Malfoy</em>?” Ron spluttered. “That git? He’s a teacher? At Hogwarts?”</p><p>“Ron,” Hermione scolded, slapping Ron’s shoulder. “Be nice. I’m sure he’s changed over the years,” to which Ron muttered, “Ten galleons says he hasn’t.”</p><p>“Oh, no, he’s still a git,” Harry reassured her. Draco scowled and kicked him in the leg. “Ow! Merlin, it was a joke,” Harry hissed at him.</p><p>“Is someone with you, Harry?” Hermione asked with a small frown. Ron tried to lean in and look further into Harry’s office, but Hermione pulled him back. Rose took this chance to make a bid for freedom, so Hermione had to simultaneously restrain her toddler and her husband at the same time. Harry bit his lip, and nodded.</p><p>“Who?” Ron demanded, still trying to get a look for himself.</p><p>“Well….” Harry shifted over to make space and gestured for Draco to join him on the hearth. Draco widened his eyes at him and shook his head. Harry let out an impatient noise and gestured more insistently. Draco let out a huff, but kneeled beside him nonetheless.</p><p>Ron turned bright red.  “M-Malfoy!” he stuttered. “How long have you been there?”</p><p>“Weasley. Granger,” Malfoy said, giving them each a curt nod. When his gaze landed on Rose, his brow furrowed. “Tiny Weasley,” he said at last.</p><p>“Hello Draco,” Hermione said with a polite nod of her own. “This is our daughter, Rose.”</p><p>“Ah, yes, she is….” Draco seemed unsure what the correct response was and landed on, “…she is a child.”</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione pressed her lips together to repress a laugh, but Ron was still in shock at the sight of Draco.</p><p>“So are you two…friends?” Hermione asked tentatively, looking from Harry to Draco and back. Ron appeared to catch up with the conversation and narrowed his eyes at Harry again.</p><p>“Well…” Harry began, exchanging a meaningful glance with Draco.</p><p>“No,” Ron said flatly. “No, don’t tell me. You two aren’t….”</p><p>“Er…”</p><p>“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron blurted out. Ignoring Hermione’s admonishing, “Ron!”, he added, “You’re not dating the git, are you?”</p><p>Draco turned with a dramatic raise of his eyebrows to Harry, who simply groaned and bowed his head so he didn’t have to look at any of them. “Yes, Harry,” Draco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “are you dating the git?”</p><p>“Merlin, Malfoy, I swear…”</p><p>“Oh, I’m Malfoy again? That’s not what you were saying last night.”</p><p>Ron’s jaw hit the floor as Harry blushed furiously. Hermione put her hands over Rose’s ears, scowling at them all and hissing, “There is a child present!”</p><p>“Okay, that’s it,” said Harry as he attempted to shove Draco out of the way. “If you can’t behave, you can go wait in the office.”</p><p>“I didn’t even want to be here in the first place,” Draco grumbled petulantly as he got to his feet, dusting the ash from his knees. “I’ll be in your office, then.”</p><p>Harry sighed and massaged his temples. He heard the click of the door as Draco left the room. He looked back up at Ron and Hermione. Ron had not picked his jaw off the floor yet, and Hermione was giving him a look that was both withering and pitying, like he was a muddy dog that had brought them someone else’s toy.</p><p>“I can explain,” he began.</p><p>“You’d better,” Ron finally managed to choke out. “What the bloody hell was that about?”</p><p>“Ron!”</p><p>“Hermione, I am very emotional right now, it might be best if you put Rose in her room because if you’re worried about me swearing, it’s about to get a lot worse.”</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes, but got up to carry Rose off to her room. Rose began to cry – she had apparently been having too much fun listening to the adults. The minute Hermione had disappeared, Ron shuffled closer and hissed, “What the fuck are you thinking, Harry? Shagging Draco fucking Malfoy?”</p><p>Harry let out a long breath through his nose before answering. “Ron, come on, Hermione’s right. He has changed a lot over the past ten years.”</p><p>Ron snorted. “Yeah, right.”</p><p>“No, really,” Harry argued firmly. “He’s a good man. We’ve been talking almost every day since term started. This… whatever it is, it only started at the end of term. His father died, and….”</p><p>“You started shacking up because his dad kicked the bucket? That’s just wrong, mate.”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake Ron, that’s not what – ”</p><p>“But it’s what happened, isn’t it?” Ron protested. When Harry didn’t correct him, he swore so creatively that Harry was secretly glad neither Hermione nor Draco could hear him. Finally, Ron held up a hand and said, “Listen, you haven’t always had the best taste in partners, my sister being an exception. But Malfoy? The bastard bullied you the entire time we were in school, <em>and </em>he was a Death Eater. <em>And </em>a bloody coward. <em>And </em>you work together, which is unprofessional to say the least.”</p><p>“Really, that made the list?” Harry deadpanned. Ron glared at him, and he sighed. “No, I know all that. But he’s apologised a million times over for what happened, and for Merlin’s sake, we were kids! And he served his time….”</p><p>“Not enough, if you ask me,” Ron grumbled.</p><p>“…and got early release because <em>I defended him</em>. You haven’t been with him these past couple months. He really has changed, for the better. He’s a good man, Ron. And I really, really like him.”</p><p>Ron crossed his arms over his chest as he scowled at Harry. Harry set his jaw and refused to look away. They sat like that in tense silence for a long minute. Then, finally, Ron conceded defeat. His shoulders slumped and his scowl relaxed into a frown.</p><p>“Fine. Doesn’t mean I like the bloke. But you’re my friend, and I want you to be happy. So – and I can’t believe I’m saying this – I’ll give Malfoy a chance. Benefit of the doubt and all that.”</p><p>Harry let out the breath he had been holding. His knees were beginning to ache from kneeling on the ground for so long. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Really. This means a lot to me.”</p><p>Ron waved him off. “I owe you one anyway,” he pointed out. When Harry looked confused, he clarified, “From putting up with me and Lavender back in sixth year. I can see now that was an unholy nightmare for everyone.”</p><p>Harry laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, you kind of do owe me one for that,” he admitted. “Listen, I kind of have to go. I’ll call again soon, I promise. We need to figure out Christmas Day plans and all that anyway. Give my love to Hermione.”</p><p>“I will. And Harry?” Harry knelt back down and Ron gave him a stern look. “If he does anything funny, I’ll curse the git myself.”</p><p> </p><p>“That went well,” Draco said sarcastically as Harry came into the office. Draco was sitting in Harry’s usual seat, his feet up on the desk as an origami bird fluttered above him. Harry shook his head.</p><p>“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Harry said. He tapped Draco’s feet to tell him to get off, and Draco stuck out his tongue but lowered his feet to the ground. Harry leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. “Ron even said he’ll give you a chance.”</p><p>“I assume this was after I left the room?” Draco pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Harry shrugged.</p><p>“It’s a start,” Harry countered. “Hermione has more reason to hate you and she, well, doesn’t.”</p><p>“Great. So she doesn’t hate me and he promises not to kill me on sight. Lovely friends you’ve got.”</p><p>“Well, at least we’ve told them. Have you told your friends?” Harry asked pointedly. Draco frowned. “Oh come on, after all that earlier and you haven’t told your friends?” Harry threw up his hands as Draco looked away. “Merlin’s tits, Draco! Seriously?”</p><p>“It’s not like I’m inviting you over to Pansy’s house for New Year’s,” Draco argued, sinking lower into Harry’s chair, looking like a sulking child. Harry let out huff and stormed back towards his room. He stopped in the doorway and looked over at his shoulder at Draco. “Come on, then. Let’s call your friends. Might as well get it all over with.”</p><p>Draco looked up in surprise. “Really?” he asked. His eyes lit up. “You’ll meet them?”</p><p>“Of course.” Harry gave him a lop-sided smile. “But only if you come to the Burrow for Christmas dinner.”</p><p>Draco sighed, but stood up with a small smile. “Fine. But you have to explain to my mother why I’m not spending Christmas dinner with her.”</p><p>“Deal.”</p><p> </p><p>Meeting Draco’s friends had gone slightly better than Harry thought it would. Pansy Parkinson had burst into laughter at first, but when she explained it was because Draco had had a crush on Harry during their school years and wouldn’t shut up about ‘Saint Potter’, Harry immediately liked her. Draco had then forbidden Pansy and Harry from hanging out together, but Pansy had waved him and promised Harry that she would call him with all the juicy details later. Blaise Zabini, an elegant man that Harry remembered dimly from their school days, simply looked at Draco, then Harry, and back before saying, “Is this really all you wanted to talk about? Can I go now?”</p><p>Then it was time to talk to Narcissa Malfoy. Harry had thought that they were just going to Floo call her, but Draco insisted on having the conversation in person, so it would have to wait until the next day. This made Harry very suspicious. That night, as they lay in bed together, Harry pulled away and looked Draco in the eye.</p><p>“Draco,” he said. “Have any of your previous boyfriends…met your mother?”</p><p>Draco blushed. “Er…well, there was one about five years ago, we had been dating a while, and she, er, did technically meet him.”</p><p>Harry narrowed his eyes. “Go on,” he said. Draco fidgeted.</p><p>“She was meeting me at St. Mungo’s so that we could go out for tea and just so happened to run into him – he was a Healer there – so, technically, she met him.”</p><p>“Draco. Am I going to be the first boyfriend you have ever brought home to meet your mother?”</p><p>“Well, <em>technically</em> you’ve already met.”</p><p>“You keep using that word.”</p><p>“It’s accurate,” Draco mumbled, fixing his gaze stubbornly on Harry’s collarbone. Harry rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Galloping gargoyles, Draco,” Harry muttered. He pulled Draco against him nonetheless and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Be glad I like you so much, or I’d hex you.”</p><p>He felt Draco kiss the curve of his neck in turn. “I like you, too, Scarhead,” he mumbled against Harry’s skin.</p><p>“Prat.”</p><p>There was a pause, and Harry thought Draco might actually have been offended. Then, Draco said, his voice muffled against Harry’s shoulder, “You know, people do call each other things in bed.”</p><p>“What do you mean things? Do you mean – oh.” Harry drew back to look Draco in the face. “I’m not calling you Daddy,” he said firmly. Draco blushed.</p><p>“I didn’t say anything about you calling me anything,” he replied, choosing his words with care. Harry’s eyes widened as this sunk in.</p><p>“So you want to call me – ”</p><p>“Okay, that’s it, go to sleep,” Draco interrupted, quickly burying his head back against Harry’s chest. “No more words out of you, just sleepy time.” Harry grinned.</p><p>“Draco….”</p><p>“Shhh. Go to sleep.”</p><p>“…I wouldn’t mind that at all.”</p><p>He could feel Draco’s cheeks blazing against his skin. “Oh,” Draco whispered. “Oh. Okay. Well. Good.”</p><p>Harry bit his lip to try and stop grinning. “Good night, Draco,” he murmured. Things were about to get very interesting.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is all I have so far - might add more as the story progresses.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Christmas Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So it was settled. They would spend Christmas morning with Draco’s mother at Malfoy Manor, and Christmas evening with the Weasleys at the Burrow. As a result, they decided to exchange presents on Christmas Eve. That is why the two of them were sat in front of the fire in Harry’s room – or rather, what was becoming <em>their</em> room. It had only been about a month, but Harry had noticed that Draco was starting to keep more and more things in his closet, that they spent almost every night together, and that one day Draco had gone down to breakfast wearing one of Harry’s jumpers. McGonagall had given Harry a look but said nothing as Neville passed her a Galleon under the table. He later got a letter, delivered by her severe-looking screech owl, saying that, while staff relationships were… acceptable, they would do best to ensure a certain amount of decorum around the students. ‘It would not do for the Head of Slytherin house to wear a Gryffindor sweater, if you know what I mean,’ the letter read. On the bottom, however, she had written, ‘I am happy for you, Potter. And Mr. Malfoy, too.’</p><p>Draco handed Harry a medium-sized parcel wrapped in green paper as Harry handed him a paper bag stuffed with gold tissue paper. Draco insisted that Harry opened his first, watching intently as Harry unwrapped his prize. There were two items – one being a letter-writing set tied in twine, complete with envelopes and self-inking quill, and the other a leather-bound book. Harry raised an eyebrow at the first.</p><p>“You said you wanted to keep in better touch with your friends,” Draco explained.</p><p>“That was last week.”</p><p>“Yeah, I mean, that one is sort of additional, you could say. I really meant to give you the book.”</p><p>So Harry set the letter-writing set aside, shaking his head with a smile, and picked up the book. The smell of leather was strong, as if the book had only recently been bound, and there were no words embossed on the spine or cover. Harry opened it curiously to the front page. He let out a soft gasp as he read:</p><p>
  <em>The Wizarding Families of the British Isles, 1066 to 1950.</em>
</p><p>He turned the page to the table of contents, where each chapter was dedicated to a different wizarding family. He trailed his index finger down the list, turning the page as it continued in alphabetical order, passing Black, Longbottom, Lovegood and Malfoy. His finger froze when he found it.</p><p><em>Potter</em>.</p><p>He flipped to the appropriate chapter. There, he found an intricate family tree, a few pages dedicated to the family history, and even a few drawings and photographs of the more famous family members. There was his great-grandparents, a regal pair with dark hair in elegant Edwardian dress, and his grandparents, Fleaumont and Euphemia Potter. The photo must have been taken on their wedding day – Fleaumont, tall and pale with a nervous smile, stood behind Euphemia, who wore an intricately woven sari and silver jewellery. She was small and slight, and she waved up at Harry as her husband adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. Harry felt the tears prick at his eyes. He looked up at Draco, smiling shakily.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Draco smiled back, small and tentative.</p><p>“You had said you wanted to know more about your family,” he said, fidgeting with the hem of his grey jumper. “I had Mother send this to me and had it rebound – it was falling apart, I don’t think anyone’s looked at in ages, but I thought, maybe…”</p><p>“Draco,” Harry interrupted him, leaning forward and cupping Draco’s cheek with one hand. “I love it. Thank you.” He kissed him, sweet and chaste, before pulling away and wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “This makes my gift look stupid in comparison,” he added in a low mumble, gesturing at the bag in front of Draco for him to open it and blushing slightly. Draco pressed his lips into a fine line as if to hold back a comment.</p><p>Harry watched with trepidation as Draco pulled out the tissue paper and picked out the mug from the bag. Draco frowned as he turned the mug over in his hands, then let out a snort of laughter. On one side was written in bold font: ‘Property of Draco Malfoy, Hands Off.’</p><p>“I thought it would be nice for you to have your own cup,” Harry explained. “I know you like the one with the flowers on it, but this one has a charm on it to keep the tea warm so it never goes cold.”</p><p>Draco smirked. “The flower cup is the best cup,” he said, half to himself, “but this is perfect. Thank you.”</p><p>Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Okay. Whew,” he said. “You are very hard to buy gifts for, I’ll have you know.”</p><p>Draco laughed. “So I’ve been told. I was once given a pair of socks by an ex because he didn’t know what else I could possibly want or need. Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last long.”</p><p>“Well, shit, does this mean you’ll break up with me if I get you a bad gift? Birthdays are going to be nightmares.”</p><p>Draco shook his head with a grin. “Oh no, I’m not breaking up with the Chosen One over something like that. The entire wizarding world would never let me live it down.” He set the mug to one side and crawled forward onto Harry’s lap, taking Harry’s face in his hands. “Besides,” he added, his voice low, “I can think of some other gifts you can give me that don’t even require clothes.”</p><p>Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, pulling the other man tight against him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, tilting his chin up to meet Draco’s kiss half-way. “Happy Christmas, Draco.”</p><p>“Happy Christmas, Harry.”</p><p> </p><p>“You ready?” Draco asked. He checked his reflection in Harry’s bathroom mirror, then went back to the closet to change his jumper for the fifth time. Harry looked up from where he sat on the edge of his bed, tying his boots.</p><p>“Yeah, are you?”</p><p>Draco huffed. He straightened his hair with a pout, checking his reflection again. “Does this look okay?” he asked the mirror.</p><p>“The green one was more festive, dear,” said the mirror wearily. Draco groaned and dug back through the pile of discarded clothes in front of the closet. “Are you sure” he asked, holding up the green jumper against the black one he was wearing. “I feel like it’s too on the nose.”</p><p>Harry shook his head. He shared a look with his reflection in the mirror. His reflection rolled its eyes. Draco had been getting ready for about an hour, and at this rate they would be late for breakfast with his mother at Malfoy Manor. Not that Harry was particularly looking forward to it. He and Narcissa had a better understanding than he had had with Draco’s late father, but that was all up in the air now. Harry, who was wearing black jeans and a maroon button down, was uncomfortable enough already. Christmas was for lounging around in Mrs. Weasley’s jumpers and pyjama bottoms, not formal wear. But Draco had insisted.</p><p>Harry put his wand in his back pocket as Draco changed, <em>again</em>, into the bottle green jumper. “Your mum knows I’m coming, right?” Harry asked as the thought suddenly popped into his head. Draco, who was modelling for the mirror, didn’t look up.</p><p>“Um, yes, you could say that,” Draco said distractedly. Harry frowned.</p><p>“Draco, what did you tell her?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips. Draco bit his lip.</p><p>“I, uh, might have said I was bringing a friend,” said Draco. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course.</p><p>“Right. And you didn’t tell her who, did you?”</p><p>Draco shrugged, not looking at Harry. He dabbed a bit of cologne on and turned one last time for the mirror, who sighed and told him, “You look perfect, dear.”</p><p>Assured at last, Draco gave his reflection a quick nod. He came back into the bedroom to grab his wand and the two gifts they had gotten for his mother – Parisian perfume from Draco and a pair of earrings from Harry, who thought he had done pretty well given the short notice. Harry furrowed his brow.</p><p>“Draco.”</p><p>“Mmm?”</p><p>“You didn’t tell your mum that I was coming, did you?”</p><p>Draco looked down at the gifts in his hands, then smiled sheepishly at Harry. “Er, no. Not exactly.”</p><p>Harry swore.</p><p>“I’m sure it will be fine,” Draco said in a rush. “It’s not like she’ll curse you or anything.”</p><p>“How reassuring,” Harry deadpanned. “Well, only one thing for it. Shall we?”</p><p>So, one Floo trip to Hogsmeade and one Apparation later, when Harry and Draco found themselves outside the gates to Malfoy Manor, Harry still wasn’t entirely convinced that he was not going to get cursed for dating Narcissa Malfoy’s son.</p><p>They walked up the path to the house, their shoes crunching in the gravel the only sound in the muffled winter air. Draco kept fidgeting and readjusting his grip on the presents. When Harry offered to carry them, Draco shook his head and clutched them protectively against his chest, insisting that he could carry them just fine. Harry sighed and shrugged. He suspected that the presents were Draco’s back-up plan in case things did not go well.</p><p>Malfoy Manor was situated in a large plot of land bordered on all sides by tall green hedges. Perfectly manicured bushes and trees rustled their empty branches in the breeze. Although it was nearly nine in the morning, the sun was barely up in the sky, the rosy light of dawn warming the frozen landscape. As Harry and Draco approached the front door of the mansion, Harry had to admit – it was beautiful, if eerily quiet. Draco went up the stairs to the front door, but Harry stayed on the gravel path, just in case he needed to make a quick getaway. Draco, noticing, looked back at Harry with exasperation.</p><p>“I thought you used to be an Auror,” Draco pointed out. “Aren’t you all for dangerous situations?”</p><p>“So you admit this is a dangerous situation?” Harry countered, staying firmly on the path. Draco huffed.</p><p>“Just get over here, you’re making me nervous.”</p><p>At that moment, the door opened. A house elf, who looked an awful lot like Dobby did back in Harry’s second year, stood in the doorway, shivering in the cold air. He smiled politely at Draco, but when his large tennis-ball sized eyes landed on Harry, he gasped.</p><p>“Mr. Harry Potter, sir!” he squeaked. “This is an honour! Wilkins has heard so much about you!”</p><p>Draco glared at Harry, and nodded his head at Wilkins the house elf, as if to say, “Does this look threatening to you?” Harry ignored him, and stepped up next to Draco to shake the house elf’s hand. Wilkins looked like he could faint as Harry clasped his tiny hand.</p><p>“Very nice to meet you, Wilkins,” Harry said. Wilkins positively blushed.</p><p>“Draco, is that you?” came a voice from inside the house. Harry gently disengaged his hand from Wilkins’ trembling grasp as he heard the click of heels on marble. “Ah, Draco, dear, I was wondering when you would – ”</p><p>Narcissa Malfoy froze. Harry straightened up and gave her a small, apologetic smile.</p><p>“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy,” he said. “Happy Christmas.”</p><p>Narcissa looked from Harry, to Draco, to Harry and back again. Her shocked expression schooled itself into a courteous smile. She straightened her tailored navy dress, her only sign of nerves. “Happy Christmas, Mr. Potter,” she said, before rounding on Draco with a severe raise of her eyebrows. “Draco, you didn’t tell me Mr. Potter would be joining us.”</p><p>“I said I was bringing a guest,” Draco pointed out, blushing furiously. “We brought gifts,” he added, raising the presents like a peace offering out to his mother. Narcissa took the gifts suspiciously, but stepped aside to let them in. Draco’s shoulders slumped in relief, and he bounded inside, giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed. Harry followed, hands in his pockets, and glanced nervously at Narcissa, who pursed her lips.</p><p>“Sorry about this,” he said in an undertone. “If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t tell me he hadn’t told you I was coming until this morning either.”</p><p>Narcissa let out a soft chuckle. “Well,” she said, gesturing for him to follow Draco, “I hope you’re hungry. Breakfast is ready in the sunroom.”</p><p>They walked down the hallway in silence. They passed the drawing room, and Harry caught a glimpse of the crystal chandelier, the dark purple walls and ornate marble fireplace over which hung a great gilded mirror. Harry shuddered, the memory of Bellatrix Lestrange carving ‘Mudblood’ into Hermione’s arm flashing through his mind, the sound of her screams and Ron’s protests ringing in his ears from all those years ago. He closed his eyes, trying to force himself to stay in the moment, for the vision to stop there. His head ached as it remembered the splitting pain in his scar, and behind his closed lids he could see Dobby’s shaking form as he stood up to the family he had served, ‘<em>Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends</em>.’</p><p>He stopped, pushing up his glasses to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. He took one breath, then another. He began to list the steps for proper broom maintenance inside his head. Slowly, the pain subsided, and his breathing evened out. He lowered his hands. When he looked up, Narcissa was watching him, her expression unreadable.</p><p>“We don’t use that room anymore,” she said, her voice quiet. “I know that it isn’t enough, but I am…sorry, for what happened. For everything. I wish I could say we didn’t know better, but we did.” She let out a shaky breath. “We did. And we still did nothing.”</p><p>Harry didn’t know what to say. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry about your husband. You must miss him.”</p><p>Narcissa looked away. “I do,” she whispered. They stood there for a moment in silence, the weight of grief and memory heavy in the air between them. Then, Narcissa cleared her throat, and gestured towards a door down the hall. “Draco will be waiting for us,” she said, her voice thick. Sure enough, Draco leaned out of the doorway, a confused frown on his face.</p><p>“Is everything alright?” he asked, looking from Harry to his mother. Narcissa smiled and waved him off.</p><p>“We’re coming, dear. Why don’t you pour us all some tea?”</p><p>Draco nodded, still frowning, but went back into the room.</p><p>Harry followed Narcissa into the sunroom. It was a bright, well-lit room, a sort of half-conservatory, half-breakfast nook. One side of the room was made entirely of glass and overlooked the rear garden, letting in the late morning light. There were plants everywhere, on pedestals, in enormous pots, even hanging from the ceiling. A round table was set up in the middle of the room with four chairs around it. Someone, Harry suspected Wilkins, had set out a platter of cold cuts, a chafing dish of scrambled eggs, a bowl of mushrooms cooked in garlic butter, and a rack of toast. Draco, who had just finished pouring the tea, looked up as he set the teapot down.</p><p>“Alright?” he murmured as Harry went to take the seat next to him. Harry nodded and gave Draco a small smile. As they began to tuck into their breakfast, Harry felt Draco’s hand give his thigh a quick, reassuring squeeze under the table.</p><p>“So, tell me,” said Narcissa, taking a sip of her tea – black, with sugar, just like Draco. “How was your first term of teaching, Draco?”</p><p>“Good,” Draco said. “Very, uh, rewarding.” Harry stifled a snort, and Draco shot him a quick glare. Narcissa didn’t seem to notice.</p><p>“How do you find it, Mr. Potter?” she asked.</p><p>“You can call me Harry, Mrs. Malfoy,” said Harry. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he continued. “It was a good first term, we have a good bunch of first years this year. To tell the truth, it’s been pretty uneventful, compared to when we were in school, but I agree with Draco, this term has been particularly…rewarding.” He glanced at Draco as he sipped his tea, and tried to hide his smile at the faint blush creeping across Draco’s cheeks. He reached a hand under the table and squeezed Draco’s thigh like Draco had done, but left it there, rubbing circles into Draco’s inner thigh through the fabric of his dress pants. Sure enough, Draco’s cheeks went from pink to red. Harry bit back his grin.</p><p>“That is very good to hear,” Narcissa was saying. “I told Draco that teaching would be a good change of pace from him, after working with St. Mungo’s all these years. I’m glad to see that you two are getting along as well, after everything.”</p><p>Harry sobered his expression and nodded solemnly. “Yes, well, we do live with each other, so we get along just fine, you could say.”</p><p>Draco choked on his toast. Harry removed his hand from Draco’s thigh to pat him on the back. Narcissa frowned. Draco, throat clear, glared at Harry, who raised his eyebrows and moved his hand to rest on the back of Draco’s chair.</p><p>“Yes, well, I imagine living at the school does mean you are in close quarters with each other,” Narcissa said slowly.</p><p>“Quite close quarters,” Harry agreed with a serious nod. “In fact, Draco spends most of his free time in my – ”</p><p>“Office!” Draco blurted out. “In his office! He has a very nice office. Great view of the grounds.”</p><p>Narcissa, startled at Draco’s enthusiastic outburst, cocked her head. “I see.” She looked from Draco’s blushing face to the arm Harry lazily draped over the back of Draco’s seat. Finally, she said, “Did you two coordinate your outfits? Because as a pair you are quite festive.”</p><p>Surprised, Draco and Harry looked at their shirts then at each other. Draco had blanched, but a slow grin spread across Harry’s face. Draco, as if reading Harry’s mind, widened his eyes and shook his head minutely. Harry waggled his eyebrows in a challenge.</p><p>“Yes,” Harry said, even as Draco pleaded with his eyes to shut up, “we do make quite a pair, don’t we, Draco?”</p><p>Narcissa, not missing a beat, frowned. “Draco, is there something you want to tell me?” she asked. Draco slumped in defeat. He turned to face his mother with a sigh.</p><p>“Mother...” Draco began, taking another deep breath to steel himself. “Harry’s my boyfriend. We’re dating.”</p><p>Narcissa dropped her teacup. It bounced off her lap and crashed onto the marble floor, tea and porcelain flying everywhere. Draco winced and closed his eyes. Harry flicked his wand, repairing the cup and mopping up the tea from the floor. He bit his lip as he glanced back and forth between Narcissa and Draco. Narcissa was as white as a sheet as she stared in shock at her son. Draco looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. Harry moved his arm from the back of Draco’s seat, taking the other man’s hand in his instead and giving it a gentle squeeze, only for Draco to grip it so tight Harry thought it might bruise.</p><p>“Oh,” Narcissa said at last. “Oh. Um. Oh.”</p><p>Draco opened one eye, then the other. When it did not seem like his mother was immediately going to hit him, he relaxed his death grip on Harry’s hand a little. Some of the colour had returned to Narcissa’s face, but from the way the muscle in her jaw was working, Harry guessed that there was a lot she was holding back.</p><p>“I know you’re mad,” Draco said slowly.</p><p>“Mad? No, I’m not mad,” Narcissa said hurriedly. She paused. “Okay, maybe a little mad. How long has this been going on?”</p><p>Harry and Draco shared a glance. “About a month?” Harry suggested.</p><p>“Give or take,” Draco agreed.</p><p>“A month?” Narcissa echoed. Harry could see her doing the math in her head. Then, horrified, she gasped. “Before or after your father – passed?”</p><p>“Merlin, Mother, after, of course!”</p><p>“Of course? What is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>Harry sunk a little in his seat to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Draco’s shoulders tensed.</p><p>“What do you think?” he spat. “Father never approved of who I am, but it wasn’t like I was waiting around for him to die to start dating Harry!”</p><p>“Oh really? Because that’s what it looks like!”</p><p>“I didn’t – Circe’s tits, Mother!”</p><p>“Don’t talk to me like that - !”</p><p>Harry wondered if they would notice if he crawled under the table. But Draco’s hand held his captive.</p><p>“I’m a grown man, Mother!”</p><p>Narcissa scoffed. “If you were, you would have told your own mother that you were seeing someone!”</p><p>“I’m telling you now!”</p><p>“Ten years, Draco, and you never brought anyone home, and now you’re sleeping with <em>Harry Potter</em>? What would your father think?”</p><p>“Well he’s fucking dead, so it doesn’t matter, does it?”</p><p>Silence descended in the sunroom. Harry swallowed hard. Draco and Narcissa glared at each other over the breakfast dishes, burning holes into each other. The tension mounted. Finally, Harry cleared his throat.</p><p>“We should go,” he whispered to Draco.</p><p>“Yes,” Draco said firmly. “Let’s.”</p><p>They stood, Draco never taking his eyes off his mother, but as they made to go, Narcissa suddenly reached out a hand to her son, her fingers just gripping his sleeve. Draco inhaled sharply.</p><p>“Wait,” said Narcissa, her voice breaking. “Wait. Draco. It’s Christmas. I’m sorry. Please. Stay.”</p><p>Harry watched Draco’s expression struggle to remain impassive, his eyebrows contracting as he frowned at his mother’s grip on his sleeve. His grey eyes wavered between desperate hope and hurt. Harry, who had been halfway to the door, walked back over to him and wrapped an arm around Draco’s narrow shoulders. Draco started at the contact, but just as quickly relaxed against Harry’s touch. He sighed.</p><p>“Fine,” he said. “I’m sorry too, Mother.”</p><p>Narcissa smiled at her son, and, letting go of his sleeve, gestured for them to sit back down. As they sat, she called for Wilkins and told him to grab their gifts. The house elf disappeared with a crack, only to return a few moments later with a box and a gift bag, which he handed to Harry and Draco. With another crack, Wilkins disappeared again, returning almost instantaneously with Narcissa’s gifts.</p><p>“Before we open these,” Narcissa said, even as Draco began to pluck at the bow on his box. “I just want to say… You know why I’m upset, don’t you, Draco?”</p><p>Harry and Draco exchanged a glance. “Because I’m dating Harry Potter?” Draco said tentatively. Narcissa rolled her eyes.</p><p>“No, don’t be silly dear,” she replied. “No, I’m upset that you thought, all this time, that you couldn’t talk to us about….” Here she gestured vaguely between him and Harry. “Your father may not have understood it, but he still loved you. We both love you. And I’d hate to think that you would keep something so important to you from us because you were afraid we’d think differently.”</p><p>Harry slipped his hand into Draco’s as he saw the shine of tears in Draco’s eyes. Draco bit his lip, looking down at the gift in his hands, and gave Harry’s hand an acknowledging squeeze. After a long pause, he whispered, “Thank you, Mother, for clarifying that.” Narcissa smiled tenderly at her son.</p><p>“Of course,” she murmured. They both surreptitiously dabbed at their eyes. Harry gave Draco’s hand one last squeeze before unthreading their fingers. “Alright,” said Narcissa, “let’s open presents, shall we?”</p><p>The perfume and earrings were greatly appreciated. Narcissa had gotten Draco a pocket watch that also told the phases of the moon, which Draco marvelled over. Harry nervously plucked the tissue paper out of the bag and reached in. He let out a bark of laughter.</p><p>In his hand was a pair of socks.</p><p> </p><p>Back at Hogwarts, Harry collapsed onto his bed with a dramatic sigh. Draco gave a weak chuckle, standing at the bedside with his hands in his pockets. Harry, his feet dangling off the end of the bed, looked up at him with a lopsided smile.</p><p>“Well, that could have been worse,” he said. Draco snorted.</p><p>“Define worse,” he mumbled.</p><p>“For one thing, she didn’t curse me,” Harry pointed out. Draco shrugged. Harry raised an arm in invitation, and Draco, toeing off his shoes, climbed into bed next to Harry, snuggling up against him as Harry pulled him into his side. “And I do need a new pair of socks,” Harry added thoughtfully. Draco turned into Harry’s chest to hide his smile.</p><p>“Dork,” he muttered. Harry rubbed his hand up and down Draco’s waist. Draco closed his eyes at the touch and snuggled closer. They laid like that for a good long while. Harry felt himself slipping off to sleep when he heard Draco ask, “Do we have to go to the Weasley’s tonight? Couldn’t we just stay here?”</p><p>Harry chuckled, the laugh rumbling in his chest. “After that? Yes, we are definitely going. You owe me.”</p><p>“In my defence, you were being the asshole, being all touchy feely,” Draco argued half-heartedly. Harry looked down at him.</p><p>“In <em>my </em>defence,” he said, “you were the one who didn’t tell your mother you were bringing your boyfriend to Christmas breakfast.”</p><p>Draco glared up at him through his lashes and pouted. “Prat,” he grumbled. Harry smirked.</p><p>“As I said,” Harry leaned down and kissed the top of Draco’s head, “you owe me. Plus, Teddy will be there, and I want you to meet my godson.”</p><p>“Oh.” Draco traced a lazy pattern on Harry’s chest as he mulled this over. “I mean, technically, he’s my cousin. On my mother’s side. So it’ll be good for me to meet him.”</p><p>“Well, grand-cousin, right? Is that a thing?”</p><p>“I have no idea.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. At the Burrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If breakfast at Malfoy Manor was like meeting the Minister of Magic, dinner at the Burrow was like the start of term feast. The house was packed with Weasleys and their partners and children, all clambering and chattering over each other. A brief hush fell over the room when Draco appeared next to Harry, but after a few raised eyebrows, everyone carried on as if Draco had always been there. Ron, who was sitting on the couch with Rose balanced on his knee, frowned at him but, catching Harry’s reprimanding look, simply shook his head and turned back to his conversation with George about the joke shop. Hermione immediately descended on Draco, pulling him away from Harry to interrogate him about his research. Draco glanced desperately at Harry, who grinned and waved, mouthing, “Have fun,” as Hermione sat him down next to her and began talking animatedly about the recent study she had read.</p><p>Harry stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and a feeling of contentment spreading through his chest. Here was his family – all wearing Molly’s knitted jumpers, some more reluctantly than others, and passing around plates of homemade pies and fudge. Teddy looked up from where he and Victoire were playing Exploding Snap and squealed at the sight of his godfather. Harry kneeled down as Teddy barrelled straight through to him, jumping eagerly into Harry’s open arms.</p><p>“Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry!” Teddy wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck as he balanced the ten-year-old on his knee. “Happy Christmas! Aunt Luna says that my head is full of Nargles but I can’t see them, can you?”</p><p>Harry laughed. “She says that about everyone,” he reassured the boy. “Just avoid the mistletoe, apparently that attracts them.” He brushed Teddy’s hair back with his hand. Teddy had changed it to match Harry’s black curls, but as he grew older, he reminded Harry more and more of Remus. His heart squeezed at the thought of the man who should be there, of all the people who should be there with them – Sirius, Tonks, Fred… Teddy frowned and patted Harry’s cheek with a pudgy hand.</p><p>“Why are you sad?” he asked in that straightforward way only children have. Harry laughed softly.</p><p>“Oh, you just remind me of your dad, is all,” Harry assured him. “Which reminds me, I have a present for you.”</p><p>Teddy squealed. Harry, grinning, pulled out the present he had shrunk to hide in his pocket. He tapped it with his wand to restore it to its normal size and handed it to Teddy, who immediately tore off the wrapping. His jaw dropped as he held up a vintage leather jacket. Harry’s grin softened.</p><p>“It was your Uncle Sirius’s,” he told Teddy, whose eyes grew to the size of dinner plates at the mention of his infamous uncle. “I had it Charmed so that it’ll fit you no matter how big you get.”</p><p>Teddy clutched the jacket to his chest. “I will love it forever,” he whispered seriously. Harry chuckled and kissed the top of his head before sending him off to show his grandma. He watched as Teddy ran over to Andromeda, holding up the jacket like a trophy, “Grandma! Grandma! Look what Uncle Harry got me!”</p><p>Andromeda looked from Teddy to Harry and rolled her eyes. “You are a bad influence, Harry James Potter,” she said, pointing at him with a warning finger. Harry shrugged.</p><p>“What are godfathers for?” he asked innocently. Andromeda shook her head, but smiled down at Teddy, who was already pulling the jacket on and admiring it with glee.</p><p>“Is that Harry?” Molly Weasley poked her head out from the kitchen. “Harry, dear! When did you get here?”</p><p>“Just a few minutes ago, Mrs. Weasley,” he said. He joined her in the kitchen, which was overflowing with food. Charlie looked up from shelling peas at the kitchen table and nodded at Harry, who raised a hand in greeting. “Is there anything I can help with?” Harry asked Molly. She shook her head, waving her wand for a stool to scoot out for him as she turned back to the pots on the stove.</p><p>“No, no, dear, you just sit and have a chat with me,” she said. “Ron tells me you have a new boyfriend. What’s his name?”</p><p>Harry blushed as he sat down next to Charlie. “Oh, erm, Ron didn’t tell you?” he asked. Charlie raised an eyebrow. “It’s, erm, Draco Malfoy.”</p><p>Molly spun around. One of the pots that had been cleaning itself in the sink clattered into the basin with a splash. Charlie squeezed a pea pod too tightly and a pea shot across the room, hitting the window across from them. Harry shrunk down into his seat with a sheepish smile. Molly opened and closed her mouth in shock. Charlie pursed his lips to stifle his laughter.</p><p>“D-Draco M-Malfoy?” Molly stuttered. Harry nodded. Charlie whistled.</p><p>“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Harry,” said Charlie, going back to shelling the peas with a small shake of his head. Harry turned on him in exasperation.</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry, Charlie, I forgot to ask, how’s your partner? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have one.”</p><p>Charlie laughed good-naturedly. “And proud of it,” he said. “I’ve gotten enough to deal with rescuing dragons to settle down.”</p><p>“And we are so proud of you, dear,” Molly assured him before turning back to Harry. “Is he – Is he here?”</p><p>Harry nodded. “He’s in the living room,” he squeaked. Molly took a deep breath, her hands on her hips as the pots began stirring themselves behind her.</p><p>“Well, I hope he’s hungry, we have plenty of food,” she said at last. “He’s not vegetarian or – what was that thing you were telling me about, Charlie?”</p><p>“Vegan?” Charlie supplied, finishing off the last pea pod.</p><p>“That’s right. He’s not vegan, is he?”</p><p>Harry shook his head. His shoulders slowly lowered from around his ears. “You’re – you’re not mad?” he asked her cautiously. Molly came over and put her hands on either side of his face with a loving smile.</p><p>“I can never be mad at you, dear,” she said, giving his cheek a pat. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. But,” she pointed a finger in his face with a stern look, “if he hurts you, I am not afraid to give him the same treatment I gave his aunt.”</p><p>Harry blanched. “Please don’t kill my boyfriend,” he whispered. Charlie snorted behind him. Molly pressed her lips into a thin line and gave Harry’s cheek a final pat before returning to her cooking.</p><p>A little while later, Draco himself came into the kitchen in search of Harry and found him and Charlie assembling an army of mince pies under Molly’s watchful eye. Charlie, seeing Draco come in, flashed him a sly grin and excused himself, wiping his hands on his trousers as he edged around the taller man back out into the living room. Molly gave Draco a warm smile, and if it was a bit forced, no one noticed. She reached out her arms as she came around the kitchen table towards him and Draco, surprised and confused, froze as she embraced him.</p><p>“Good to have you here, Draco,” said Molly, releasing Draco and giving him a quick pat on the cheek. He gave her a small, polite smile. He looked over at Harry, who was trying to hide his blushing face as he bent over the table, focusing entirely on filling the pies.</p><p>“It’s good to be here, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco said, raising an eyebrow at Harry who finally looked up and gave him an awkward smile. “Is this where you’ve been hiding this whole time?” he asked Harry pointedly. Harry shrugged. Draco shook his head in exasperation. Molly, watching the two of them, rolled her eyes and busied herself with bringing out another round of canapes into the living room, leaving Draco with a blushing Harry.</p><p>Draco came up behind Harry and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, pressing himself flush up against him as he leaned forward, nuzzling into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry shivered despite the stifling warmth of the kitchen.</p><p>“One of these days,” Draco murmured into the shell of his ear, “I will get you back for leaving me alone in that weasel den for the better part of an hour.” Harry trembled as Draco nipped his ear. He didn’t think he would mind whatever Draco had planned for his revenge.</p><p>Just then, however, they could hear Molly making her way back to the kitchen. Draco stepped away but kept one hand on Harry’s low back as Harry straightened up, more flustered than ever. Molly seemed to notice the change in energy in the room. She pursed her lips as she carried empty dishes to the sink.</p><p>“Is there anything I can help with, Mrs. Weasley?” Draco asked. She waved him off.</p><p>“That’s sweet of you, but no, you’re a guest, go enjoy yourself,” she said. She flicked her wand and one of the fires on the stove went out as the pot hoisted itself up and began pouring its contents into a serving bowl.</p><p>“If Harry is helping, I can help,” Draco argued. Harry turned, confused at Draco’s sudden insistence on being useful.</p><p>“Ah, well, Harry is practically my son, and my children are expected to help their mother. There’s a difference,” Molly pointed out as the now empty pot flew across the room to join the rest of the dishes in the sink. Harry nodded sagely at this. In a matter-of-fact monotone, he explained to Draco,</p><p>“If I wasn’t an adult, she would legally adopt me. But, alas, I am a grown ass man.”</p><p>“Language, Harry.”</p><p>“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley.”</p><p>Molly rolled her eyes at him with a smile. “Why don’t you two go out and join the party? Dinner will be ready soon.”</p><p>Dinner was a splendid affair. The dining table had been magically extended to fit everyone, but even then people were right up against each other, knocking elbows as they reached for the overflow of food. It took Draco a minute to relax amidst the chaos, used to as he was a much more formal dining atmosphere. Harry put his arm around the back of Draco’s chair protectively, eating one-handed. Ginny, who was sat next to Harry with Luna on her other side, nudged him and leaned in to whisper, “You can ease up a bit, none of us are going to jinx him.”</p><p>“You sure?” Harry muttered back. Ron kept shooting Draco suspicious glares when he thought Harry wasn’t looking, even as he helped Hermione feed Rose mushy peas. Ginny shrugged.</p><p>“He’s an over-protective git, but we both know that,” she replied in an undertone. “Remember what he was like when we dated?”</p><p>“Fair enough,” Harry said, “but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to jinx Malfoy, whereas with you and me he didn’t have a choice, he had to be civil.”</p><p>“I can hear you two, you know,” Draco said, not looking up from cutting into his turkey. Harry and Ginny blushed, but gave each other knowing looks before turning back to their partners. “I don’t need protecting,” Draco mumbled, still not looking at Harry. Harry shrugged.</p><p>“I know,” he said, ducking and giving Draco a quick peck on the cheek just to see him smile. He turned his head to whisper in Draco’s ear, “I just want them to know you’re mine, <em>baby</em>.”</p><p>Draco dropped his fork. A couple of heads turned, but the chatter didn’t stop. Draco turned bright red as Harry grinned and leaned back, his job done. Draco sipped his wine and glared at Harry over his glass. “You are the worst,” he muttered as he set his glass back down. Harry only grinned wider.</p><p>“I know,” he said again. “But that’s why you like me, right?”</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes, but gave him a tired smile. “Prat,” he said, but there was no venom in the word, only sweet affection. Harry’s face was like a small sun for all the happiness it radiated. Ron, watching them, let out a ‘humph.’ Hermione frowned at her husband.</p><p>“Leave him be, Ronald,” she said in an undertone over Rose’s head. “See, Harry’s perfectly happy, no need to keep watching them like a murderous hawk.”</p><p>“I don’t trust him, ‘Mione,” Ron said darkly. Hermione rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Yes, but Harry obviously does,” she pointed out. “And honestly, we haven’t seem him this happy in ages. Let him have this, okay? And if Draco does try anything funny, I’ll let you hex him, okay?”</p><p>Ron scowled but relented with another ‘humph.’ When he bent down to try to get Rose to eat another bite of mushy peas, Hermione caught Harry’s eye and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry about him,” she mouthed. Harry smiled back and shrugged to say, “It’s Ron, it’s fine.” She nodded with a sigh, but just then Rose spat up all her mushy peas, and she had to whisk her toddler away to clean her up.</p><p>Later that night, as the children drowsed on the couches and the adults broke out the spiked eggnog, Draco let himself be pulled into Harry’s side as they sat around the dining table with the others. He rested his head on Harry’s shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment with a content sigh. Harry played with the hair on the back of Draco’s neck, marvelling at how long it had grown since Draco had shown up at Hogwarts. The rest of the Weasley’s shook their heads at the sappy couple, some with knowing smiles and the others with disbelieving frowns. Harry didn’t mind, and Draco didn’t seem to notice. Finally, Ron and Hermione had to go and put Rose to bed, and many of the other parents followed suit. Teddy protested when Andromeda woke him up from where he had passed out on the couch, still wearing his leather jacket, but Harry came over and promised to come see him soon, after which Teddy reluctantly let himself be led away by his grandmother. Draco watched them, having gotten up sleepily to watch from the doorway. Harry gave him a funny look.</p><p>“What?” Draco asked.</p><p>“It’s just – you looked… wistful,” Harry said as he came over to him. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist. “I didn’t know you liked kids.”</p><p>“I’m a teacher, I have to like kids,” Draco mumbled as he swayed forward and melted into Harry’s embrace, his head on Harry’s shoulder as if it was meant to be there. Harry chuckled.</p><p>“I know, but still.” Harry buried his face against Draco’s hair and sighed. “Do you want kids one day?” he asked, his voice quiet and soft. Draco shrugged, too tired and tipsy to be embarrassed.</p><p>“One day,” he whispered against Harry’s shoulder as he gave Harry a small squeeze. “But I’m too tired now.” Harry chuckled again.</p><p>“Okay,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Here with You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The final chapter, in which Harry has a nightmare, Draco's Dark Mark makes things worse, and they get the ending they deserved. CW: PTSD episode, panic attack, grounding therapy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry woke up with a start. He sat up, drenched in cold sweat, and looked wildly around the room, one hand already reaching for his wand on the bedside table.</p><p>“Wha’ is it?” Draco mumbled next to him. He pushed himself up into a seated position as he blinked blearily at Harry. Harry swallowed, trying to even his breathing out. His mind began to catch up to his panic. The room became familiar once more, the pale moonlight illuminating hulking, forbidding shapes and turning them back into armchairs and cloaks hung up on closet doors, blurry and indistinct without his glasses. Still struggling to deepen his panting breaths, he looked down at the sheets tangled around him, his brain trying to reconcile his reality with his nightmare. He had apparently dislodged a sleeping Draco when he had sat up. Draco positioned himself half behind Harry so that he could wrap his arms around Harry’s waist, tugging him back down into bed.</p><p>“It was a nightmare,” Draco whispered, his voice thick with sleep. Harry resisted the primal urge to struggle against Draco’s arms and let himself be pulled down, his head on Draco’s chest, cheek pressed against silver silk pyjamas. “It’s okay. You’re at Hogwarts. It’s December. It’s 2008. I’m here, with you,” Draco was murmuring as he ran his fingers through Harry’s unruly hair. Harry closed his eyes, trying to relax into Draco’s touch, to listen to his voice grounding him here, now. “We’re in your bed, in your room, in Hogwarts. The war is over. We’re professors. I’m here, with you. I’m here. I got you.”</p><p>As Harry’s breathing returned to normal, his body began to tremble as the adrenaline wore off. He opened his eyes. As he did so, Draco’s forearm came into view as he continued to stroke Harry’s hair. The sight of the Dark Mark, faded now beneath the pale vulnerable skin, made the panic return hard and fast. Harry pushed his way out of Draco’s arms, scrambling to the far edge of the bed. The adrenaline rushed through his veins once more, as if he had just touched a live wire. He gasped and panted, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He pressed himself up against the cold stone wall next to the bed. Draco stared at him in confused surprise. Propped up on his elbows, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.</p><p>“Harry?” said Draco. He raised his hands, palms facing Harry, reassuring him that there was nothing to fear. Once more, Harry’s eyes found the Dark Mark on Draco’s left arm. Draco, frowning, followed his gaze. His shoulders slumped when he realised. “Oh,” he breathed. “Shit.” He lowered his hands and looked back up at Harry, fighting to keep the hurt out of his expression. “Harry, can you tell me your full name?” he asked as calmly as he could.</p><p>Harry gulped. “Harry James Potter,” he said in a hoarse voice, each breath wheezing through his constricted throat. If Malfoy was here, then Crabbe and Goyle couldn’t be far behind, and they would turn him into Voldemort – it would all be over, a flash of green, a high, cruel laugh… a train with no destination…</p><p>“Okay. Can you tell me where you are?”</p><p>He glanced around the room like a cornered animal. “Hogwarts,” he managed. “This is Hogwarts.”</p><p>“Right. Good. Can you tell me five red things you see?”</p><p>Red. Red. Harry looked around again, more slowly this time. “Armchair. Scarf. Erm, jumper. Rug. Curtains.”</p><p>“Very good. You’re doing great. What are four things you can feel?”</p><p>Harry pressed a palm against the cold stone behind him. “Stone,” he said, his heart rate beginning to slow. “Sheets.” He moved his hand from the wall to the sheets as if to check that they were real. “Pyjamas.” He plucked at his pyjama bottoms. Then, he reached out to touch the headboard. “Wood.”</p><p>“That’s right. Okay, how about three things you can hear?”</p><p>Harry took a deep breath. “Your voice,” he murmured. “Heartbeat. Wind outside.”</p><p>“You’re doing so well, love. Two things you can smell?”</p><p>Harry leaned his head back against the wall as the exhaustion crashed over him like a tidal wave pulling him out to sea. “Fuck. Erm. Fireplace. I can’t smell anything else. Just fire, why can I just smell fire?” Fiendfyre, Draco shouting in his ear, the diadem swallowed up in flames….</p><p>“That’s okay, it’s just the fireplace, there isn’t a fire in it, it’s okay. Harry, focus on my voice, alright?” He waited for Harry to nod, for his eyes to open again, their green depths swallowed by black pupils. Draco bit his lip. He reached out and took Harry’s hands in his, gripping them tight. Harry froze for a moment. Then, as Draco began to stroke the back of his hands with his thumbs, he saw Harry’s shoulders relax, his eyelids lower. “One more thing, okay?” Draco said gently. “What can you taste? Just one thing.”</p><p>Harry’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He made a face. “My breath,” he mumbled. “It’s gross.”</p><p>Draco let out a small breath of a laugh. “Yeah, it is, but it’s fine. Let’s try this again, shall we? What’s your name?”</p><p>“Harry James Potter.” Harry slumped into a cross-legged position, his back bowing forward as he leaned his elbows on his knees, his hands slack in Draco’s. Draco raised one of their joined hands to his lips and gave it a quick kiss before murmuring against it,</p><p>“And where are you right now?”</p><p>“In my room at Hogwarts. With you.” Harry looked up at Draco through his thick lashes with a ghost of a smile. Draco smiled back, pressing their joined hands against his cheek.</p><p>“What year is it?” he asked.</p><p>“2008.”</p><p>“Good,” Draco breathed. He turned his head to give Harry’s hand another kiss. Harry’s smile grew stronger at this, even as the weariness began to weigh down his eyelids. Draco sighed and once again pulled Harry down to the bed. He got him all stretched out, pulled the covers over them, and laid down opposite him, tugging Harry against him as he hooked a leg around his hip. Harry nuzzled against Draco’s neck, breathing deep the smell of him, sweat and mint toothpaste with the lingering trace of warm cologne. He wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist, like a man tossing the line of his boat to port.</p><p>“You want to talk about it?” Draco murmured. Harry shook his head, tickling Draco’s jaw with his hair.</p><p>“Tomorrow,” Harry promised sleepily.</p><p>“Okay.” Draco kissed the top of his head before settling back against the pillow. “Tomorrow, then.”</p><p> </p><p>The next morning dawned cold and bright. Harry woke up to Draco handing him a cup of milky tea, still wearing his silk pyjamas. He sat down next to Harry as he accepted the tea and propped himself up against the pillows, inhaling the smell of bergamot and black tea. Draco took a sip of his own tea as he watched Harry.</p><p>“So last night was rough,” Draco said bluntly. Harry winced.</p><p>“Yeah,” he sighed. “Sorry about that.”</p><p>“Don’t be. I owe you from when I woke up screaming my head off, what was it, the third or fourth night we spent the night together?”</p><p>Harry nodded. “Fair, but still.” He sipped his tea, the memories flooding back as his mind woke up. “That couldn’t have been easy to deal with. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Draco shrugged. “Want to tell me what happened?” he asked. Harry rubbed his eyes before taking another long drink of his tea. Draco handed him his glasses, which he accepted gratefully. After hooking them on, Harry smiled at Draco.</p><p>“There you are,” he murmured. Draco rolled his eyes but ducked his head to hide the sappy smile spreading across his face. Harry gave him a quick peck on the cheek before leaning his head back against the headboard with a sigh. “It was just a really nasty nightmare,” he said finally. “Voldemort was killing everyone, but I was Petrified and trapped under the floorboards of the Shrieking Shack. I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything.” Draco flinched at Voldemort’s name. Harry, noticing, gave him an apologetic look. “Then,” he continued in a hushed tone, “I looked up and there was the Dark Mark, hanging over me, and I knew I was next. I think that’s what set me off the second time, seeing your Mark.”</p><p>Draco looked down at his tea with a frown, his heart plummeting down into his stomach. Harry reached across Draco and traced his fingers down Draco’s left arm, leaving goose flesh in his wake, before gripping his forearm and turning it up to look at the Mark writhing there like a trapped serpent. They both stared at it in silence. Draco didn’t realise he was crying until he blinked and the tear slipped down his cheek onto his arm.</p><p>“I want it gone,” Draco mumbled. Harry let go of his arm in order to turn Draco’s face towards him. He gave Draco a smile so soft and tender, it made his heart swell and tear all at once. Then Harry leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before drawing back, his thumb wiping away the tear tracks on Draco’s cheek.</p><p>“It’s not your fault,” Harry said, quiet but firm. “If you want it gone, we can look into removing it somehow. But you were just a kid. It doesn’t reflect who you are now.”</p><p>Draco gave Harry a weak, trembling smile. “I know,” he whispered. “But it still reminds me, every day, of everything I did to you.”</p><p>Harry let out a long breath. He lowered his hand until it came to rest against Draco’s chest, where beneath the pyjamas the silvery scars criss-crossed each other across the pale skin. “And these,” Harry whispered back, “remind me of what I did to you. Your skin bears all the marks of our mistakes. But you shouldn’t have to carry them alone.”</p><p>Draco clutched at his cup of tea in his new ‘Property of Draco Malfoy’ mug as he looked into Harry’s sincere green eyes. In those eyes, Draco could see his past, present and future with Harry, clear as the day dawning outside their window. What he saw gave him hope like nothing else could. He leaned forward and gave Harry a lingering kiss. When he pulled away, Harry tried to follow, and he smiled, filled to the brim with happiness and contentment. He set both their cups of tea on the bedside table before straddling Harry’s hips and taking his head in his hands.</p><p>“I think I love you, Harry Potter,” Draco said softly. Harry beamed up at him.</p><p>“I think I love you too, Draco,” he said. He sat up to lean his forehead against Draco’s, their noses brushing. “I love you so much,” he murmured. Draco’s heart sped at the words, and he grinned stupidly, even as Harry pulled him into another, deeper kiss.</p><p>In that moment, all was well.</p>
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